I’m dreaming


I’m the dream, or rather the night.

For me the night is a place where the only rule is to do your job, be
professional and stay away from anything that has ever been good or sexy.

I feel free in those places. I feel the need to talk openly, to be vulnerable,
to be my honest self.

Why do I need to be my honest self?

Because I’m scared.

Because I don’t want anyone to know who I really am.

Because I don’t want to disappoint people who I care about, and who have
trusted me with my heart.

That’s why I’m not here. In this place where the rules are simple, and
everyone is always honest. The place where no one is perfect, but where I
truly believe you should be who you are.

For me the night is a place where people love, trust and believe in me.

I dream about all of that. I dream about my past, my future, and my
future. And I dream about the people who have taken care of me. People like
my friends. People who have believed in me, who helped me to become the person
I am. People who don’t even realize they are doing it.

And there are so many people.

There are my friends.

There is my cat.

And there are the people I have been inspired by.

Like my writer friends.

People like my colleagues.

And even people like me.

People who are flawed.

People who have made mistakes.

People who have stood by me when I needed it the most.

People who were strong, who always believed in me.

People who have become my champions.

People who have lifted me up when I have fallen.

People who show me what I really want to do. Who make me forget that sometimes I
don’t know what I’m going to be when my life is over.

People who inspire me in ways that I never could have

People who love me for me.

People who make me feel like I should be something I’m not, and who make
me realize that sometimes I am exactly who I need to be. That every decision
I make in this life, every person I meet, every interaction I have, makes me

When I’m dreaming of a new job, writing a new novel, or finding my happily
ever after…I know that I’m dreaming because it’s real.

And I know that I’m not dreaming because I’m writing this for you.

I’m not writing it because I want the world to read my words.

I’m writing it because I want to.

Because it’s true.

I am real.

And that’s all that matters.

So I hope everything is wonderful wherever your journey may take you.

And that you are always doing your best to keep dreaming.

The people who I love the most, and who made me feel safe as a child…
they are all here in this place.

To the people I love

and who made me feel like I could be anything I wanted,

I say: ‘Thank you.’

To my cat, who lets me call the phone and write my thoughts without getting
any response from anyone, and to the woman who makes me laugh and helps me
make a difference every single day.

To my friends, who have helped me to believe in myself when I didn’t, and
who have helped me love myself when I probably would have hated me.

To my colleagues, who have given me a sense of ‘why not?’ to try things
that nobody would ever try.

To my family, who have fought for me so hard, and who have been my
constant inspiration in all that I’ve been, and who are always willing to
share their lives with me.

To my boyfriend, who has always believed in me and kept his head up.

And to my children, who are everything to me…and for whom, I pray, I will
grow up the way I want to.

My mother said I would change the world.

She said this when I was only three.

That I would become a doctor, and a politician, and a superstar. But
I remember her saying, ‘I’m positive that you will become something far

As she was talking to me on the day of my third birthday, I heard a
rattling noise behind her. Then laughter. I looked behind me and noticed my
mother was holding a rattle. She was singing.

My mother is a beautiful, intelligent, artistic soul who likes to
laugh. She likes to sing, she loves the outdoors, she loves animals and
favourite songs. And she has her own little ‘happy place’, where she
enjoys holding her rattle, watching TV, and taking in everything around her.
She used to call it ‘the box’.

I remember her telling me about her childhood. About how she used to
watch her mother as she played with her dogs. She remembered that as a child,
her mother would always try to find things for them to play with that they
cared about as much as they did.

She remembers sitting on the floor, where her mother would put crumbs,
and say, ‘Why are you eating that? It’s not yours; you’re really good
at this, you’ve just got to come and do it.’

She remembers how excited her mother would get when they would play with
each other with different things, each one with a new activity and all the
time, her mother would get so excited that she would try to feed her the
new object before her mother realised it wasn’t for her.

And all the time her mother would always say to her: ‘It’s not yours,
you don’t have to get it, you can play with it. You can make something out
of it.’

My mother knows what it is like to be afraid. She was never afraid when
she was growing up. She was always excited. My mother remembers this.

She remembers making friends wherever she went as a child. She remembers
being scared most of the time, but she remembers being excited and happy,
because she could do anything.

She remembers being told that there is nothing to be afraid of, that
there are other kids and it is okay to be brave, that anyone can be anything
and that she can do anything. The only thing that can stop you from doing
anything is to stop you from being happy.

And so she has taught me all the things I have learned over the years. The
only thing she doesn’t talk about is losing.

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